Verity would have happily continued discussing quidditch if it meant preventing the next chain of events.

First, Noble seemed poised to stand before slumping back into his seat, his head flopping back like that of a dead fish. Then, Grace was panicking, rightfully so, but the fact remained that they had guests! The panic and alarm rippling through the table could have been managed were it not for the cup of wine Ford might as well have poured into Mr. Lestrange's lap.

Mr. Lestrange was soaked in wine.

Positive that everyone else would be attending to Noble, Verity reached for the nearest napkin besides her own and handed them to Mr. Lestrange. She thought frantically of something to say that didn't alert anyone to her own rising panic (because Noble was fine!) and fell short. "Perhaps we should step into the parlor?" She suggested to Mr. Lestrange and stood to do just so. "Grace? We should give them space."